


What the Water Gave Me

by orphan_account



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He cares about Charlie, sure, but only in the way that any uncle would care about his niece. It’s perfectly natural to feel protective of her, to want to keep her safe, to feel the urge to beat every man who touches her into a bloody pulp. And if his eyes linger too long on her body every now and then, if her smiles occasionally take his breath away, if their touches sometimes last longer than is strictly necessary  – well. It’s nobody’s business but his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Water Gave Me

_Lay me down_

_Let the only sound_

_Be the overflow_

***

It starts innocently enough, if anything about Miles can be described as “innocent”. He cares about Charlie, sure, but only in the way that any uncle would care about his niece. It’s perfectly natural to feel protective of her, to want to keep her safe, to feel the urge to beat every man who touches her into a bloody pulp. And if his eyes linger too long on her body every now and then, if her smiles occasionally take his breath away, if their touches sometimes last longer than is strictly necessary  – well. It’s nobody’s business but his. 

But then they come across a Militia spy a few miles north of the Illinois border, and everything between them shifts subtly. 

***

For what feels like the hundredth time in the past half hour, Miles’s knuckles connect with the man’s jaw. The bastard just grunts, spits out a few blood-covered teeth and smirks. Miles tries to keep his voice steady. “I’m going to ask you one last time: where is Neville taking the boy?”

The man just keeps on grinning maddeningly. “I told you, I haven’t got a fucking clue.” His eyes drift away from Miles and settle on Charlie, who’s standing behind them, arms crossed, a steely expression on her face. “Why don’t you let _her_ have a go with me? She looks a lot more fun.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow and drops her hand to the knife on her belt. “Maybe I will.” 

“Stay out of this, Charlie,” Miles snaps, never taking his eyes off the man. The man looks between them, his grin widening. 

“Well, well,” he says. “Someone doesn’t like sharing his toys.”

Miles pulls his own knife out of his belt and presses it into the man’s windpipe. His breath hisses out of him, and Miles increases the pressure until a thin red line appears on his throat. “Where. Is. Neville,” Miles says through gritted teeth, and the man wheezes out a laugh.

“Sorry, have I struck a nerve?” he says. “No need to be ashamed Miles, she’s a good catch.”

Miles growls and presses the knife harder against his skin until the man’s blood is trickling onto the grass in a thin line. “What, you gonna kill me?” he pants. “Kill me over some little jailbait _slut -_ ”

Miles sees red, and before he knows what he’s doing, he slits the man’s throat in one clean movement. He watches, breathing heavily, as the blood spills onto the ground in quick bursts. After a moment, he stands, wiping his knife on his sleeve, and turns to meet Charlie’s eyes. He half expects her to reprimand him for killing a potential lead, but instead she just gazes resolutely back at him, her expression unreadable. Miles swallows and looks away. “Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let’s keep moving.”

*** 

Miles is more careful after that. He doesn’t touch Charlie unless it’s absolutely necessary, and makes an effort to dial down their exchanges from “flirty” to a perfectly respectable “snarky”. He tries to convince himself that it’s because he doesn’t want people making those assumptions about them, and not because he doesn’t trust himself – she’s his _niece_ for God’s sake – but it doesn’t quite ring true, even inside his own head.

On the surface, nothing changes, but Miles can feel that something is off. Their silences are awkward and tense instead of companionable, and sometimes he catches Charlie looking at him with a question in her eyes, a question that Miles can’t even begin to understand, let alone answer.

A week after they find the Militia spy, they’re attacked by bandits. It’s hardly a surprise. A group of two looks weak and vulnerable, easy prey for anyone with superior numbers. But Miles and Charlie have prepared, and they fall upon their attackers with ruthless efficiency.

There are five of them total, and Miles fells the first one easily with a sharp blow to the head with the butt of his sword. The next one just throws himself at Miles, all his vitals exposed, and killing him is child’s play. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charlie grappling with a man at least twice her size. He sees the man knock Charlie’s knife out of her hands, and a jolt of panic surges through him.

“Charlie!” he shouts, starting towards her, letting his guard down in the process. The fourth man blindsides him, and the next thing Miles knows, he’s pinned to the ground with a knife pressing into his neck. Miles struggles blindly for his sword, feeling the blade begin to break his skin. Then suddenly, the man twitches and falls to the side, an arrow sticking out of his back. Miles looks up and sees Charlie standing above him, crossbow raised. A few feet away, he sees the man she’d been grappling with earlier, blood still burbling out of his slit throat. The last bandit throws himself at Charlie, and she swiftly, almost elegantly, pulls out her knife with her right hand, the crossbow still in her left. She spins into his attack, plunging the knife into his stomach with a soft grunt.

She stands there for a moment, catching her breath, before turning to look down at Miles, who is still sprawled out on the grass. She tosses her hair out of her sweaty face and wipes a splotch of blood off her mouth with the back of her hand, and to his horror, Miles feels arousal curl through his stomach, sticky with shame.

That night, long after Charlie’s breaths have become slow and even, Miles gives in and reaches into his pants. He tries to think of Nora, Maggie, _anyone_ else _,_ but all he can see is Charlie, her slim but powerful body moving through the air, her muscles working under her clothes as she fights, kills, spills blood, all for _him._ When he comes, biting down on his fist to stop himself from saying Charlie’s name, all he can think is, _This is the most messed up thing I’ve ever done._

***

A few days later, they finally make it to the Illinois border, only to find it swarming with Militia. Miles had expected as much, but he still feels a twinge of frustration as he quickly formulates a plan.

“Okay,” he says under his breath. “Our best shot is to go through the Mississippi. Use the bridge for cover.” He turns to face Charlie, who suddenly looks little short of terrified. Miles frowns. “Do you know how to swim?” Charlie shakes her head, pale from more than the moonlight.  

“Hey.” Miles touches her shoulder reassuringly, momentarily forgetting his resolution to be more careful around her. “The river is low this time of year, and the current doesn’t look too strong. We’ll be fine. Just stay close to me, okay?" 

She nods and sets her jaw, looking scared but determined. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Miles smiles and grips her shoulder more tightly. “Good girl.” 

For a second, he thinks he sees something like heat flash through her eyes, but then it passes, and Miles lets his hand drop to his side, clearing his throat. “Alright. Let’s go.”

They make it easily to a patch of bushes near the bank of the river. They crouch behind the bushes for a few minutes until the guard leaves his post, presumably to find the replacement for his shift. “Okay,” Miles whispers. “Now.”

They make a break for it, moving as quickly as the can without making too much noise. Miles reaches the bank first, and Charlie comes up beside him a few seconds later. He turns to face her, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. She nods quickly. Miles takes a deep breath before stepping slowly into the river. 

The water is colder than he expected, but it’s not too deep, and he wades in further until it’s up to his thighs. He turns and silently beckons for Charlie, who swallows and takes one last steadying before following him. Miles meets her halfway, taking her hand and guiding her towards the bridge. They’ve just made it underneath when Miles hears footsteps and a quiet murmur of conversation coming from the direction of the riverbank. He pulls Charlie sharply back towards the bridge, covering her mouth with his hand to cut off her noise of surprise and pressing his back against the grimy bricks. Miles waits, trying to focus on the guards’ voices, and not the hot puffs of breath against his palm. After a few seconds, the voices pass by them, grow quieter, and then fade away. Miles drops his hand from Charlie’s mouth and releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He waits a few more seconds, just to be sure, then takes Charlie’s hand again and begins to wade across.

They move carefully, one step at a time. The current, while manageable, is still strong enough to sweep them away if they lose their footing. Miles goes first, making sure he’s stable before pulling Charlie along with him. By the time they’re about a third of the way across, the water is nearing Charlie’s shoulders. Miles is seriously considering carrying her the rest of the way when he hears a shout from the bridge: “Hey! Stop right there!”

Miles makes the decision in a fraction of a second: he pulls Charlie’s body against him, wraps his arms around her waist, and launches them straight into the current. Their heads plunge under the surface, and Miles can hear the sound of people shouting and bullets splashing into the river, one coming dangerously close to them. He holds his breath and turns so that he’ll hit any rocks feet-first, clutching Charlie’s head protectively to his chest. The current is fast enough that the shouts fade quickly, but Miles doesn’t dare resurface until the bridge and the Militia are far behind them. He holds Charlie tighter, hoping to God that she took a breath before they went under.

Finally, when his burning lungs can’t take it anymore, Miles breaks the surface, gasping for air. He hears Charlie coughing up water and sucking in a few shaky breaths against his chest, and the knot in his stomach loosens considerably. In the distance, he can see the flickering of a campfire – the Militia camp. It’s far away now, shrinking with every passing second, and Miles lets out a sigh of relief. They’ll be able to rest tonight without worrying about the Militia catching up to them.

Charlie lets out a muffled whimper, and Miles immediately begins to kick his way towards the shore, struggling under the weight of her and both of their bags. When the water becomes shallow enough, he stands, half carrying Charlie the rest of the way. He pulls her over the muddy bank, and they sink down onto the grass, panting for breath.

Charlie is shaking violently – whether from fear or cold, Miles can’t tell. He holds her closer, stroking his fingers through her wet hair and even letting himself press his lips softly to the top of her head. “Shhhhh…” he murmurs. “Shhhhh, we’re fine Charlie, we made it…”

Charlie pulls back slightly and brings a hand up to cup Miles’s cheek, as if reassuring herself that he’s really there, that they’ve made it out alive. She meets his eyes, and Miles sees the same determination on her face that he sees every time they dive into danger, side by side. Before Miles can stop her, she leans in and presses her lips against his in a chaste kiss.

For a few moments, Miles is too shocked to react. His brain registers a pair of chapped lips, still cold and tasting of river water, and then it hits him that this is _Charlie_ kissing him, _Charlie’s_ hand tangling in his hair, _Charlie’s_ tongue brushing gently against his bottom lip. Miles lets out a choked gasp and pulls away, staggering to his feet. He turns and faces the woods lining the bank, rubbing a hand across his face and trying to get his breathing under control.

“Miles, it’s okay!”

He hears her stand and draw closer to him, but he pointedly ignores her, keeping his gaze fixed on the trees, even when she reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Miles, please.” She walks around to face him, cupping his cheek again and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Please,” she repeats, her voice almost breaking. “Can we at least talk about this?" 

Miles closes his eyes and tries not to lean into her touch. “Charlie. I can’t. I’m sorry, but… this isn’t happening.”

Charlie growls and steps in even closer, her other hand coming to rest on Miles’s chest. “Yes, this _is_ happening!” she says angrily. “Miles, this _has been_ happening for the past two months! You’ve just been to blind to see it!” Miles meets her eyes again, and her gaze softens. “Come on. It can’t just be me who feels this. Can it?”

Miles swallows, watching as her eyes track the motion of his throat. His silence is answer enough.

“Charlie,” he says after a moment. “It’s not about what I want. But this just isn’t - ”

“What? It’s not ‘right’? Since when have you cared about what’s right or wrong?”

“For fuck’s sake, Charlie, I’m your uncle!” She flinches slightly at that, but doesn’t move away. “And even if I wasn’t, you’re just a kid and - ”

“And you think I don’t know what I want? Since when have you ever been able to make me do something I didn’t want to do?” She glares up at him, and try as he might, Miles can’t think of a response.

“Look,” she continues, “maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s messed up, but in case you haven’t noticed, this entire world is pretty messed up to begin with. We could have died back there. We could die tomorrow, for all I know. So if we both want this…” Her hand trails down Miles’s stomach and brushes against his dick, which has been half-hard since the first kiss. He hisses out a breath, and she grins smugly.  “Then why can’t we just take it?” 

She presses her hand against him more firmly, and Miles drops his head to her shoulder, breathing harshly against her cheek. “God,” he groans. “You really are a stubborn pain-in-the-ass, you know that?” 

Charlie laughs, low and breathless, and when she kisses him again, Miles doesn’t pull away. 

*** 

By some miracle, they manage to make it into the relative safety of the trees before Miles flings their bags to the side and pushes Charlie down onto the tarp they usually put under their sleeping bags. Charlie laughs, and then moans as he latches onto her neck, his teeth scraping gently against her skin when she pulls him up for another kiss.

Charlie approaches kissing in the same way she approaches everything else in life: fiery, determined, and stubborn as hell. The moment their lips meet, her tongue is working its way into his mouth, and it’s all Miles can do to keep up. But he’s always liked a challenge, so he gives back as good he gets, biting down sharply on Charlie’s lip. She moans and grinds her hips up into his, and Miles think he could come just from this.

When Charlie begins tugging at the hem of his shirt, he pulls back, chuckling at her huff of frustration. He is completely serious, however, when he brushes his thumb across her cheekbone and asks gently, “Have you done this before?” Charlie stills beneath him, and she bites her lip, hesitating. “I’m not going to stop if you say no, I promise. I just need to know. Please.”

She hesitates for a moment longer, and then finally shakes her head. Something dark and possessive flares in Miles’s belly. He’s going to be the first person to touch her like this, the first person to see what it looks like when she comes apart, and that really shouldn’t be hot, but it so, _so_ is. Miles does his best to push these thoughts to the side when he leans down and brushes his lips softly against hers. “Okay. We’ll go slow.”

He kisses her again, slow and deep, exploring every inch of her mouth with his tongue. Charlie lets him kiss her for about a minute before she starts squirming beneath him, searching for some sort of friction. Miles smirks against her lips and works one of his hands between them and under her shirt, feeling her stomach muscles flutter under his fingers. He pushes one thumb under the elastic band of her sports bra and swipes it gently along the dip where her ribs meet her breast, and she moans, arching into him. Miles pulls his hand away and begins to ease Charlie’s jacket off her shoulders, looking questioningly at her, as if for permission. She nods, and the jacket comes off, followed shortly by her tank top, still damp from the river. He runs his hands up her bare arms, stopping when he reaches the straps of her sports bra. Miles slips a thumb under one of the straps, and she’s gasping out a “yes” before he can even ask. “Are you sure?” he asks anyway, and she nods frantically. He pulls the bra over her head, and then her torso is bare and shivering in the night air.

Miles sits back for a moment and stares. She’s breathtaking, just as he knew she would be, all lightly tanned skin and subtly toned muscle. She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze and moves her arms as if to cover herself up, but Miles leans in and stops her, his thumb brushing against her cheek again. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and even in the semi-darkness, he can tell that Charlie’s blushing. Miles isn’t usually one to be all slow and sweet and romantic in bed, but hell, it’s Charlie’s first time, and he’s going to make it good for her. In some far-off part of his brain, Miles knows that he’s hard and aching in his pants, but his pleasure seems almost irrelevant compared to Charlie’s. Miles has never felt that with any other partner, and he tries not to think too hard about what it means.

Instead, he ducks his head and carefully takes her left nipple between his lips, darting his tongue out to lave at it before sucking it into his mouth. She gasps, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the tarp, and Miles catches one with his left, pressing her hand up next to her head and feeling her pulse hammer through her wrists as he swirls his tongue around the tight bud. He feels it harden even further under his lips and pulls off, teeth scraping against the over-sensitized flesh. Charlie bucks against him with a high keening noise, and he mumbles soothing nothings into the skin between her breasts. He moves to her right nipple, pulling it into his mouth as he swipes his thumb across the left one, still damp with his spit. When he pulls off, she gasps, “Miles, please, I need…”

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he says, sliding further down her body, breathing kisses against her stomach as he goes. He stops to nose at the dip of her navel, then moves to the sharp jut of her hipbones, mesmerized by the way her breath stutters every time he presses his lips to her skin. When he reaches the waistband of her jeans, he pauses and looks up at her. “Charlie, are you sure - ”

“Miles, I swear to God, if you ask me that one more time - ”

Her protest ends in a choked-off gasp when Miles rolls his eyes and cups her hard through her jeans. He pops the button and undoes the zipper, and Charlie lifts her hips as Miles pulls them off, underwear and all. He pulls the jeans all the way down to her legs, and then stops to take off her boots and socks. He’s never spent this much time on the act of undressing, and something about is oddly tender and intimate. When he’s finally gotten her boots off and pulled her jeans and underwear the rest of the way down, he presses another kiss to the sole of her foot and begins to make his way back up, rubbing his fingers against the coarse hair of her legs and thighs. Charlie tenses as he moves further upwards, nosing at the thatch of dark-blonde hair between her legs, where the scent of her is delicious and overwhelming. When he brings up a finger to press gently against her folds, she breathes out a low, fervent “Oh, _fuck_ ”, and suddenly Miles remembers just how hard he his, and just how long it’s been since he’s had any company other than his hand.

Miles breathes heavily for a moment, collecting himself, before he spreads her open carefully with his thumbs. He licks upwards slowly, stopping before he reaches her clit. Charlie groans and cants her hips towards his face. “You. Fucking. _Tease_ ,” she pants, and Miles grins and presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitches when his stubble brushes against her skin, and he intentionally lets his cheek rub against her when he ducks back down to lick at her again. This time, he circles his tongue around her entrance before dipping in slightly, feeling the muscle give way. He works his tongue in and out in shallow thrusts, and it doesn’t take long before Charlie’s panting and writing above him, streaming out a steady litany of  “Come on, God, Miles, _more…_ ”

He pulls back, lifting himself up onto his knees to look at her. She’s just about the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, sweaty and panting, pupils blown, her hair spilled across the ground and almost white in the moonlight. Miles meets her eyes, and sees her pupils dilate even more when he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with spit. When he brings his index finger down to press tentatively at her entrance, Charlie pushes her hips toward him eagerly. “Tell me if this hurts, okay?” he says, a little shakily, before he slowly begins to press into her.

Charlie tenses at the unfamiliar intrusion, and Miles gives her time to adjust, stroking her thigh soothingly. After a moment, she relaxes slightly, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Keep going.” Miles presses in a little further, and then begins to move his finger in and out in careful thrusts. When he crooks his finger and strokes gently at her walls, she throws her head back and whimpers.

Miles stills his finger. “Talk to me, Charlie.” She only moans in response. “Charlie, seriously, I need to know if this feels good. Does it hurt at all?”

“N-no,” she chokes out. “It feels – _God_ it feels amazing.” She looks up and meets his eyes before asking, almost nervously, “Can… can I have another finger? I think I can take it, _please -_ ”

Miles groans, and has to reach down and grip the base of his dick to stop himself from coming in his pants right here. “Yeah,” he gasps, after a moment. “Yeah, we can do that.”

He settles back down between her legs, hitching one of her thighs over his shoulder. Miles slowly works his middle finger in alongside his index, thumb swiping across her clit to distract her from any discomfort. When he ducks his head down and begins to suck at her clit, Charlie arches off the ground and moans, loud and long and unmistakably his name. Miles moans in response, the sound vibrating through her clit, and he grinds his painfully hard cock into the ground, in time with the movement of his fingers. 

He begins to work his fingers in earnest, scissoring them gently as his tongue presses firm circles into her clit. Charlie brings down a hand to tangle in his hair, and Miles can tell she’s close when she starts rolling her hips up to meet him and moaning unrestrainedly, “Oh, fuck” and “Oh, God” and “Miles, Miles, _Miles…_ ”

Miles thrusts his fingers in one last time, pressing deep inside her, and she comes apart, shaking and clenching around his fingers. He pulls her though it, fingers working gently inside her, thumb rubbing soothing circles into her clit. When she’s slumped back onto the ground, trembling and spent, he slips his fingers out carefully, immediately bringing his hand down to cup his dick through his pants. All it takes is three strokes through the rough fabric before he’s coming, still riding off the memory of his fingers inside her and the look on her face when she came. He collapses next to her, one arm thrown across her stomach, panting against her neck.

They lie in silence for a minute, waiting for their breathing to even out. Then Charlie turns her head towards and laughs softly, her hand coming down to cup his soft cock. “Classy,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

Miles rolls his eyes and gives her thigh a light slap. “Hey, cut me some slack. It’s been a while.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, rolling over onto his chest. “It’s fine. Just try to work on your stamina, okay? Next time, I want you to fuck me.”

Miles groans, feeling his spent dick twitch in his pants as it makes a valiant effort to get hard again. “Kid,” he pants, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Charlie laughs, the most beautiful, genuine laugh he’s ever heard. He smiles softly, brushing her hair away from her face as he leans in for another kiss.

Yeah, he thinks, maybe it’s wrong, or messed up, or _whatever._ But in this moment, lying on the forest floor, his fingers threaded through her hair as he kisses her slowly, Miles has never felt more right.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is, as always, appreciated!


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